


Homeshrek

by AllDaveKat, Apiaristic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shrek Fusion, Anal Sex, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Come Eating, Coming Untouched, Crack Treated Seriously, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Fairy Tale Curses, Illustrations, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Nookworms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Painplay, Psionic Bondage, Roleplay Logs, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Smuppet Kink, Verbal Humiliation, bigkat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 09:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllDaveKat/pseuds/AllDaveKat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apiaristic/pseuds/Apiaristic
Summary: Homestuck, but Shrek.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Sollux Captor/Dirk Strider
Comments: 14
Kudos: 47





	1. Somebody Once Told Me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is currently on hiatus, not sure when/if we will continue.

The clap of horse hooves and angry shouts echo through Dave’s ears as he runs down a small alley. He’s booking it as fast as he fuckin’ can, trying to escape a group of shitty soldiers who want his ass. Well, more specifically, they want him. Because he _is_ an ass. A donkey, that is.

See, when Dave was a young boy, he met a witch and accidentally insulted her by insinuating that he’d experienced carnal relations with her mother. Ergo, the witch put a curse on Dave that makes it so whenever he breaks the law, he transforms into a donkey until midnight. Yeah, yuck it up, it fucking sucks.

So anyway, right now, Dave’s in his donkey form. Because he got snacky, and stole a fucking apple. Unfortunately he got *caught* stealing, transformed into a donkey, and now half a dozen foot soldiers are now chasing his ass. Fuck the police, right?

He leaps over a small gate, charges through a poor woman’s laundry, and finally reaches the edge of Duloc’s city limits. He dashes into the forest, hearing the shouts of soldiers still behind him. He groans. If he was in his human form he could just flashstep away and those goons couldn’t touch him, but his stupid uncooperative donkey body is incapable of flashstepping. So instead, he’s forced to resort to just running away, like the most basic of bitches.

He gallops for several miles down a dirt path through the forest, still being pursued by the soldiers. Suddenly he breaks into a small clearing. He glances around, spotting a small hut, and runs up to it, pounding on the door with his ineffective little hoof.

“Help! Fuckin’, please, somebody, help me!!” he yells desperately.

The door opens to reveal a massive, eight-foot-tall adult troll, with dark gray skin, piercing red eyes, and short rounded horns. Dave ducks into his house underneath his arm and hides behind the troll, panting and sweating as the soldiers pour into the clearing after him.

-

It’s a good day, when Karkat Vantas wakes up. It’s a good day when he rolls out of bed and his feet hit the floor, the wooden panels groaning under his weight as he stands up.

It’s a good day when he takes a bath in the mud-pools just outside, a good day when he ignores the “WANTED: TROLL” posters that float around, a good day when he falls asleep on the couch.

Inside.

Alone.

A good day.

It becomes a bad day, however, as soon as he hears someone at his door.

Fuck.

If there’s anything he hates more than being bothered, it’s being bothered by someone noisy. Whoever the fuck is banging on his door is especially so, and Karkat grinds his teeth together as he gets to his feet and grabs his sickle off of the table.

He probably won’t need it. He never does. Everyone always goes running at the sight of him anyway, but it’s good to be careful.

The day goes from bad, to worse, when something four-legged and fuzzy scrambles past him inside, and then to worse again when he realises that they’re demanding help and running from soldiers, who skid to a stop when they see Karkat's hulking figure standing in their way.

"What the fuck. Do you want."

He snarls, lip curling and thick brows furrowed inwards, baring his teeth menacingly.

Not even a word of reply.

Whoever had seen Karkat and hadn't pissed themselves already, has pissed themselves now, and are, thank god, pissing off in the opposite direction. He watches their shiny, armour-clad behinds disappear, and rolls his shoulders, satisfied.

Ah, Peac-

"No. Fuck off."

Eyeing Dave when he turns, he promptly reaches out a huge hand and grabs at the little donkey, catching him by the ears. He lifts him up as easily as a sack of potatoes, and dumps him outside his hive, positively bristling with frustration.

"Go away." The troll commands, pointing his sickle towards the forest where he assumes the little fuckee had come from, and then turns back inside.

Fucking ingrates.

-

Dave flails his legs when the troll picks him up, tossing him outside. He lands hard on his back, and scrambles back up to standing. The troll is closing the door behind him, and Dave quickly dashes inside after him, squeezing through at the last second. He screeches to a halt in front of the fireplace, almost burning his whiskers off. Yeah, donkeys have whiskers, apparently that’s a thing.

He flops down on the stone floor, still breathing heavily. He looks up at the--he now notices, _extremely attractive_ \--troll standing in the small hive with him.

“Sup, I’m Dave, thanks for fuckin’ saving my ass out there man, I really owe you one. I’m stuck as a stupid donkey til midnight tonight but maybe I can buy you a drink sometime? What’s your name? You live out here by yourself? You got a boyfriend, girlfriend, anything? I’m Dave, did I say that already?”

-

Karkat is ready to sit down. To sit down and not move for a while. Maybe sit down with something to eat, and not move for a while.

But before he can—

Fuck.

That little shit-

He stops in his tracks and snarls, head snapping to the mammal as he squeezes inside at the last second and settles in his lounge.

What the fuck.

"I don't care. Get out." Karkat snaps, clearly not in the mood for talking with this sack of hairy assholes for very long. He's tired, he's fuckin' annoyed, because he was NOT expecting visitors, NOR to be bothered by an annoying little donkey, and he just wants some goddamn peace.

"I don't care who you are, or why you're here, or how you found me. I don't want a drink. I don't want you in my house." He breathes heavily, setting his jaw and gesturing to his front door again with his sickle, his linen shirt pulled tight across his broad shoulders and chest, like its a little too small for him until it reaches his waist and seems to loosen slightly where it's tucked into his red-and-grey plaid trousers.

"So please take your leave, you grubfucking, doucheshitting, dunderfuck."

-

Dave grins. “Damn, do you kiss your lusus with that mouth? Nah, I’m just playin’, you’re cool, man, you know that? You really got a nice place here. I could get used to livin’ in a place like this.”

He spots a table laden with food behind the troll, and ducks under and between his legs. “Ooh, is that dinner? Yes _please_ , I know I had that apple an hour ago but running from soldiers really gets my appetite going.”

He climbs up on a chair, sitting like a little person with his hooves propped up on the dinner table. He licks his lips, ready to dig in, but wrinkles his nose at the sight of a giant green grub on a platter, stuffed with some white, lumpy goo. The grub is still alive, glistening with sweat and wriggling on the plate. There’s also a few pieces of cheese that are more mold than food at this point, and a foamy pint of what _really_ looks and smells like human piss.

Dave glances at Karkat hopefully. “You got any waffle mix?”

-

Karkat stares. Stares some more. Is this little shit still talking?

He makes a gruff noise of surprise when the creature slips between his legs and sits up at his table, and he snarls, his hair bristling as he watches this- this donkey, take place at his dining table.

Waffle mix. Waffle mix?

"No, I don't have waffle mix." Karkat hisses, setting his sickle down and lumbering towards Dave. He grabs him by both ears and pulls him from his seat, and then lifts him up to eye height and glares, putting on his best scary-mean face.

"Why are you still here?"

He questions, brows furrowing thick over his eyes in anger and confusion. Nobody ever comes by here. Or spends time with Karkat. And that’s fine, it’s good. He likes to be alone.

Sure, it means that everyone he meets is terrified of him, but still. He doesn’t care. People are scared of Trolls? Fine. He leaves them be, they leave him be. He’s fine being a thing to be feared and hated.

He doesn’t need anyone. Least of all a mule.

And yet, here this mule is, making his life difficult by not cowering and running away.

As annoyed as he is, he’s a little surprised.

And unnerved.

"Don't you know who— what I am?"

-

Dave feels himself being hoisted up by his ears, and he dangles there, wiggling his tail impudently. His ears aren’t so sensitive that it hurts to be lifted by them, but he can definitely feel enough to appreciate the troll’s strong grip on him.

For the first time he takes a moment to look at the troll, and notices how attractive he is. His skin is a velvety dark gray, and his hair and eyebrows are thick and rambunctious. He has a small set of stripey orange horns peeking out from his bush of hair, as well as a pair of long ear tubes.

His expression is stormy, but his cheeks are tinted slightly red, making Dave think he might be flustered.

Dave smiles up at him. “Sure I know what you are, you’re a troll. And a fuckin’ big one, too. Just cause I’m a donkey doesn’t mean I’m a dumbass. You still haven’t told me your name though, what is it? You look like maybe a Mark, or a Steven… maybe a Gl'bgolyb?”

-

Karkat sighs, heavily. This guy is clearly not the brightest bulb in the box, and he wonders for a while how the fuck this little menace has survived this long.

He's smiling. Why is he _smiling_? Karkat could probably fit this guy's entire half-face in his mouth and take it off with one bite, and he's _not_ afraid or unnerved? Uncanny.

His ear flicks with indignation, and he growls again, hefting the boy closer to his face.

"My name--albeit none of your business--is Karkat. And yes, I'm a troll. I could kill you with one swipe of my bare hand! I crush the bones of little donkeys who invade my swamp and turn them into paste, I'm the nightmare parents tell their children to stop them from misbehaving." He snarls, cheeks only a little pink with the confused frustration he feels at this predicament he's in. What a joke.

"So why," Karkat breathes, his nose so close to Dave's that they're almost touching, "are you still here?"

-

Karkat’s breath tickles Dave’s nose, and he sneezes, spraying donkey spit all over the troll’s face.

“Whoops,” he says, wiping his mouth with his hoof. “My bad. Karkat, huh? Nice to meet you. You don’t seem like a scary nightmare to me, but what the fuck do I know, I’m just a stupid donkey, right? Anyway, I’m starving, you got anything non-slug-shaped to eat around here?”

Before Karkat can respond, there’s a loud cacophony of breaking dishes. Dave cranes his head around, twisting his ears to see what’s happening.

Several yellow salamanders are hoisting the sleeping body of yet another salamander up onto the dinner table. The sleeping salamander is blowing bubbles adorably as it snores. At the same time, there’s a crash of breaking glass and a disturbingly large number of nakkodiles jump through the window one after another, running around the room and nakking loudly.

“Damn, now it’s a party in here,” Dave says excitedly. “You sure you don’t have any waffle mix around? I make a mean batch of waffles.”

-

Karkat is pretty sure he's about to have a fit. He snarls at the donkey saliva, but before he has time to be mad about that, there are various consorts invading his home.

He drops Dave on his ass, no pun intended, and swipes his hands at the salamanders.

"No- No, hey! Get off my table!" he snaps, waving his hands at the yellow creatures.

Why they're on his table, he doesn't know, but he's fucking frustrated about it. His meal is now on the floor, being stepped on and trailed around the room, and he snarls again, reaching for one of the nakkodiles, which deftly avoids his paw.

He runs his hands through his hair in distress. How the hell-- what the hell is happening?

There's more noise outside. Dim evening light seeps in through the windows, but Karkat can see torches passing and the sound of-- is that-- people putting up tents?

He storms past Dave and shoves the front door open, only to be met by a huge crowd of consorts and other woodland creatures, all communing and setting up fucking home on his lawnring.

His face goes red with fury, and he roars for attention, his face scrunching up and his hands balled into fists at his side. When the space falls to silence, he grits his teeth, and yells again.

"WHAT? ARE YOU DOING? IN MY SWAMP?"

-

Dave hides behind Karkat in the doorway. The whole hive clearing falls into silence after Karkat’s vast yell, except for the thump of one nakkodile falling onto the floor.

Dave steps out from behind Karkat and stands bravely in front of him, surveying all the consorts on the lawn.

“Seriously, what the hell are y’all doing here?” he asks, since they seem reluctant to answer Karkat.

A group of nakkodiles starts nakking at him loudly and incessantly.

Dave holds up a hoof. “Whoa, one at a time please, I can’t hear anything y’all’re sayin’ when you’re nakking away all together like that.”

A nakkodile holding a tent pole naks at him in answer.

“Oh, shit, Lord English sent you guys? What the fuck for?”

More nakking.

“He banished you from his kingdom because you ate some of his pornographic drawings?”

A single nak.

“Well, shit.”

Dave turns to Karkat. “I think these guys might be staying here a while, they’ve gone and got their asses banished from the entire kingdom.”

-

Karkat still can’t totally comprehend what’s happening. In the space of about three minutes, his entire home was invaded, and now he wonders if he’ll ever see peace again. He stares out over the crowd with his jaw hanging open like a fish gasping for air.

When Dave turns to hand him the news, he snarls and steps around him, waving his large, black-nailed hands at the consorts.

“No. Go away!” He demands, frightening a group of turtles. He turns on a few salamanders, who back off, only to find that the turtles he just showed off have returned to their original place, continuing the construction of their little hovel.

“Get outta here! You bunch of nooksucking fuckasses, you can’t stay here! This is MY swamp, you hear me? Find somewhere else to go!”

“There is nowhere else!” A little salamander burbles, kicking their legs insistently as they blow bubbles into their air.

Karkat swats at them and looms over the little creature, breathing heavily.

“There’s an entire fucking forest. Go there.”

“Can’t!” Another one warbles, clearly distressed, being comforted, albeit poorly, by a nakkodile. “He owns everywhere! Everything! Only here is safe!”

“It’s not safe, you bulge-monkeys!” Karkat roars again, drawing himself to his full height and raking his claws through his hair and down his face, stifling the urge to burst into angry, frustrated tears. “I’ll eat you, got that? I’ll pull out your bones and your teeth and broil your children!”

The consorts are silent for a moment. They look from Karkat, to Dave, back to Karkat.

Then, in a stampede of movement, they all rush forward, piling into Karkat’s house, through his windows, his door, even burrowing under the foundations and coming up on the inside.

Karkat gets there too late. He gets his door slammed in his face, and falls back on his ass, listening to the sound of nakking, and is-- is that music?

The troll gets to his feet, absolutely fuming. He curls his hands into fists again, his face and ears so red with anger he almost looks like a tomato.

Then he reaches in one window and grabs his sickle off of the counter where he left it, death-glaring at the frogs who cower away from his huge hand appearing, and turns towards the forest, silently trudging through the dust of his swamp and into the undergrowth of the forest floor.

-

Dave stands outside Karkat’s hive, watching him stomp off into the forest. He looks inside at the consorts partying, and then back at Karkat’s retreating form.

He pauses for a moment, then trots after Karkat into the forest. The woods are dark and seem to swallow him up, and he hurries nervously down the path after the troll. He has to run pretty fast to catch up, since Karkat’s stride is a lot longer than his. He looks up at the moon, wondering how close it is to midnight. Maybe he’ll be back to human soon, then he can walk a little faster, or at least more gracefully.

“Hey Karkat,” he pants. “Wait up, man!”

He finally catches up to him, jumping in front of him to block his path. “Where are you goin’? Party’s back that way, dude.”

He points a hoof in the direction they came from, confused at the stormy expression on Karkat’s face.

“Hey, is something the matter?” he asks. He doesn’t know this troll very well, but the guy did save his fuckin’ life earlier, he feels like he owes him at least some kindness.

-

Karkat steps around Dave as quietly and easily as one might sidestep around a stone in their path, and doesn’t even spare the donkey a glance as he keeps walking.

“I’m gonna go tell lord fuckass to take back his fucking bullshit pailers, so I can have back my fucking peace and quiet.” He huffs in annoyance, hooking his sickle to his belt, where it bumps against his thigh as he walks.

“So yeah, a few things are the chute-fucking matter. Its a long fucking walk to the castle, and I haven’t even had dinner.”

Karkat scowls at the faint lights of the town on the horizon through the trees, and wonders for a moment if he could use Dave as a faster means of transport.

He looks down at the donkey with sunglasses. Looks back up.

Probably not.

The rest of their walk is spent in silence on Karkat’s part, mostly because Dave won’t shut up long enough for the troll to get a word in edgeways. He doesn’t feel like talking anyway, so it doesn’t bother him that much, but god- Do all donkeys talk this much? It’d be easier to start a fire and skewer the little beast. Then, at least, his stomach would stop growling.

But what would he have then? A pair of dumb glasses?

Asshole probably tastes like that anyway. Asshole.

When it does properly clock midnight, Karkat almost takes Dave’s head off.

A little fucking warning would have been nice before he suddenly poofed into a cloud of smoke, and then became a person.

Not that Karkat was worried, when his newfound companion had burst into foul-smelling smoke. They’d only been walking for an hour and a half, there was no way the fucker was growing on him yet.

Karkat has to stifle a snort when he realises that the kid kept his tail and ears.

What a lost cause.

When they do get to Duloc, they’re having a heated debate about onions, layers, and trolls. It isn’t hard to terrify the gatekeeper, who is wearing a giant green skull for a mask, and looks about the size of Karkat’s breakfast on a good morning.

The cobblestone streets are empty. The shops are all shut. It’s eerily silent inside the courtyard, and it isn’t until Karkat and Dave--but mostly Karkat--fight their way through three sets of at least ten soldiers and other oddly dressed men that they find out what’s going on.

“A contest?” Karkat heaves, hands on his knees and sickle in one hand, sweating bullets and gasping for breath as he’s applauded and cheered for.

A shrewd voice makes him turn his gaze skyward, to a balcony where a short, rather un-intimidating little skull-monster is waving for the crowd to settle.

“We have a winner!” he announces, to which the crowd around the two erupts into cheering, much to Karkat’s confusion.

The troll grabs the boy by the scruff of his shirt and makes to leave, but they’re blocked by more men in iron suits.

“To the big ugly troll in the front with the little blond twink! You have won an honour of the greatest kind! To complete my request, and win whatever it is you so desire!”

Karkat is too busy being mad at being called “ugly” to laugh at Dave being called a twink. He thinks he’s rather good-looking, for troll standards.

“What request?” Karkat demands to know, his brows tightly knit as he drops Dave back onto the bloodied cobblestone.

“To bring me a muse! The most deliciously pornographic being in all of the seven creatures!”  
Lord Caliborn screeches with laughter and rubs his little green hands together.

Karkat’s brows almost fly off of his face. “You want us to bring you a fuck?”

‘“No! Don’t be so derogatory! I want a muse, a muse! Someone I can perfectly capture on paper, in their most vulnerable form!”

“You want us to bring you a naked someone so you can draw them in compromising positions?”

“NO!” Caliborn screeches again, leaning so far over his balcony that Karkat wonders hopefully if he’ll fall off and die. “A MUSE!”

Karkat sighs, heavily. “Okay, a muse. Where are we going to find a fucking muse?”

“In the tallest tower in Duloc’s surrounding forest! In a decrepit castle, guarded by the most ferocious beast ever to walk the earth!”

The troll takes a long, deep breath. “So. IF I bring you a muse, rescue this-- thing, from some tall tower and hideous monster, you’ll do whatever I ask? Like, remove a bunch of fucking useless, fuck-muppet consorts from my swamp and return to me my peace and quiet?” he asks, folding his arms over his broad chest, sickle dripping crimson onto the cobblestone at his feet.

“YES!” Caliborn laughs again, throwing his arms up.

“BRING ME MY MUSE!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the homeshrek art is also by alldavekat & apiaristic


	2. The World Is Gonna Roll Me

_“Hey now, you’re an all star, get your game on, go play,”_ Dirk sings to himself as he sews a fat, felted dick onto his latest smuppet creation.

He finishes up the last few stitches and admires his work, standing and brushing his hands on his green velvet dress. He places the green smuppet on his dresser next to all the others he’s made. All of them are green, because that’s the only color of fabric he has to work with, while he’s locked up in this goddamned tower.

When his parents first brought him here, his mom was all, “Oh, Dirk, the green curtains go so well with your red hair and green eyes,” and his dad was like, “Dirk, I know you’re under a curse and you literally can’t help it, but we can’t have you in the house if you’re gonna be fuckin’ those puppets every night. It’s just too goddamn gross, man.”

Anyway, long story short, he’s trapped up here until some stupid prince comes to save him or something. The way the story goes is, a handsome prince will come riding up one day, slay the fearsome troll guarding his tower, charge up the stairs and kiss him. It will be the kiss of quote unquote “true love,” and it will break the spell that gives him an uncontrollable urge to get fucked by puppets every night at sunset.

Honestly, it’s not so bad up in this tower. He misses his bro, which sucks, but he’s always been a bit of a loner anyway so it’s not too bad. He’s got his smuppets at least. He wasn’t allowed to bring any with him from home, but he’s made plenty more over the years using his curtains and bedsheets.

Plus, he’s got one person to keep him company.

Speaking of which.

The sizzling sound of laser beams crackles through the air outside Dirk’s open window. He climbs up on his bed and leans out the window, looking down at the lava pit below. A troll sits on an island of rock, floating in the lava, tethered to the castle wall with a heavy metal chain. He looks up at Dirk, then turns his head and shoots blue-and-red lasers out of his eyes toward one of the neighboring towers, which explodes, sending bricks and shingles crashing down into the lava.

“What the fuck do you want, Sollux?” Dirk yells out the window. “You already tired of sitting around diddling yourself to your own awful personality?”

He grins at the troll and sticks both his hands out the window to flip him off.

-

If Sollux thought that guarding a horny prince from the outside world was ever a good idea, he’d have kicked himself. He had no clue what bullshit came over him to ever think that it would be a good plan, and as he sits on his rock in the middle of a pit of lava, he rethinks all of the decisions that got him here.

Being lonely. Check.

Being underfed and promised food. Check.

“The guy is hot.” Check.

Sigh.

He hadn’t eaten in weeks. His company is shit, and “Prince Dirk” is no more attractive than his right hand. He spends most of his time carving binary and old code into the walls. He doesn’t know what any of it means, it all comes to him in dreams and visions and nightmares.

His hands are covered in burn scars, right up to his elbow. A thick collar hangs around his neck, chafing and rubbing something awful. One wrist is also shackled, but the other one, Sollux had managed to break free of years ago. A nasty scar, tarred black flesh, sits where the restraint once was, after he blew it off with one of his powerful psionic blasts.

He’s grateful he didn’t take his hand off.

In a fit of boredom, he lays back, sprawling over the rock, and pushes up his glasses, letting a blast of red and blue shoot from his see-globes in two random directions.

His shirt is tattered and torn, cropped and hanging in tatters, and his pants, which might have been actual pants once, have been since singed and burnt up past his knees.

He’s so bored.

When a voice startles him from his thoughts, he rolls over and stands up, drawing himself to his full 8’2” height, slouching as always.

He fires another blast. More carefully aimed this time, taking the tip off of Dirk’s tower.

Close enough.

“If you had any idea how much I actually enjoy diddling myself, you buffoon, you’d never bother me. For your information, actually, I want you to die.”

He yells back, luckily avoiding any ‘s’ sounds for the most part, that would be lisped because of his awkward fangs.

With some effort, and the loud clanging and rattling of the thick chains that hold him prisoner, psionic red and blue flicker around his grey legs and levitate him into the air, until he’s floating right in front of Dirk’s window, marred arms crossed across his torso.

He crosses his legs midair and sneers, baring his doubled fangs and flicking his ears, which look a little like a butterfly cut in half and sewn onto either side of his head amongst his mess of dark hair, cut to length with a sharp stone whenever it gets too long.

He adjusts his glasses before he speaks.

“When does the thhow thtart? I’m always tho excited to hear you fucking your puppetth until the break of dawn. Really, itththe motht entertainment I ever get.”

-

Dirk falls on his ass when Sollux aims a laser shot at his tower, shaking his room. Several smuppets fall to the floor as well.

He stands back up and sticks his head out the window again. “Fuck you! You’re supposed to be guarding me, not barbecuing me.”

He draws back from the window as Sollux flies up to him. The troll’s words remind him of his nightly curse--not that he can ever really forget about it. He looks out into the distant fields where the sun is low in the sky. It’s almost time. His loins are already beginning to ache with a familiar need.

As the sky falls into dusk, his dick hardens right on schedule, and he grabs a smuppet from his bed, sighing in resignation. He hikes up his dress, spits on his hand to lube it up, and starts working himself open. It’s almost no time at all before he’s ready to take the smuppet dong.

The sun falls below the horizon, and Dirk’s hand moves on its own, shoving the green plush smuppet dick into his asshole, fucking in in and out, hard and relentless. He groans, partly because it feels fucking good, and partly for Sollux’s benefit.

“You wanna get-- huff-- in on this tonight-- huff-- asshole?” he asks, his hand still moving the puppet uncontrollably in his hole. He moans again loudly and pornographically. He doesn’t really give a shit if Sollux wants to fuck him today or not, but he figures it’s only polite to offer.

-

Sollux bites his lip as soon as Dirk starts touching himself, and fuck if its not hot. The prince is an asshole, but he's an attractive asshole.

The troll lets himself float right up to the window and climbs inside, chains dragging and rattling on the cobblestone, and he scowls in annoyance. Fuckin' heavy, the chains are. Heavy, and loud.

He grabs Dirk's smuppet bullshit and rips it in half, letting the mangled toy drop to the ground, and then grabs Dirk by the hair and forces him to lay down on his back.

"You're a right dithgrathe, you know that? You're tho dithguthting. I'd fuck you with your own puppetth if I wathn't tho dithguthted by touching them," the troll lisps, growling low in his throat. His eyes flicker with red and blue, and as Sollux reaches to undo the tie on his--well, they're hardly pants now--shorts, the delicate power hovers around Dirk's wrists and keeps them pinned above his head.

Normally, Sollux would love to hold Dirk down with his own massive hands--Dirk is so small and fragile beneath his shape--but he needs two hands for the moment.

Once his pants are down, he lets his xenobiology free.

Two squirming, writhing, dripping twin bulges, twisting around each other with wet, squelching noises. Sollux has been here before. He's been inside Dirk before. But he always needs some extra prep to take him, especially the both of his twitching tenta-cocks.

"You're tho pathetic. You barely even got yourself open," he drawls, rolling his eyes. With his two paws, he grabs Dirk's thighs and pushes them apart, chipped nails digging into his delicate flesh.

He leans down then and licks a sloppy line from Dirk's hole to his balls. His tongue is split, thick, and just as wet as his bulges that thrash desperately, and his hands are so large he can almost wrap his index and thumb right around them.

He could snap Dirk right in fucking half.

But for now, he's busy slobbering all over Dirk's hole and pretty little cock, mindful of his teeth as he works his tongue over him, around him, prodding at his hole and grinding against that little spot behind his balls before he stands back up and wipes his mouth on his forearm.

Without another word, he reaches to coax one bulge up and away from Dirk's hole. He'll fuck him with both, but he has to fuck the little prince with one first. Without another word of warning, he shoves one of his thrashing yellow cocks into Dirk and bottoms out with a growling moan, the second of his bulges removing itself from Sollux's wrist to curl tightly around the base of Dirk's cock.

The troll smirks, watching his bulge tease the underside of Dirk's dick while it simultaneously rings him, tight enough to stop an orgasm.

He pushes Dirk's thighs open wider, hooks his hands beneath his knees and folds him in half, still sitting flush with Dirk's hips, the bulge inside him writhing and nudging and grinding against his walls incessantly.

Sollux grins. "You gonna thcream for me, huh? Bet you will. Nobody can hear you, little printhe. Thcream for my cock."

-

Dirk makes a noise of protest as Sollux rips his smuppet in half.

Eh, whatever, he can fix it later. Not like he’s got anything better to do with his time.

He stifles a moan as Sollux tangles his claws in his hair and forces him down, holding him there with his psionics. He strains to look as Sollux releases his bulges from his disgusting half-disintegrated pants. They’re so fucking *big*. And he’s gonna take them both. Fuck.

He curses as Sollux’s tongue works his hole open wider. Even just his tongue is so large, it stretches Dirk and he tries to fuck himself down onto it harder, with his limited range of motion.

Sollux sinks one of his bulges into Dirk and fuck, fuck, it’s so big. It always feels impossibly too big to handle. His other bulge circles around Dirk’s cock, squeezing it tight, almost painfully so. He hates it. It’s fucking perfect.

“You fucking wish I’ll scream,” he pants. “It would be the first time anyone’s ever screamed at you for something other than the shock of seeing your ugly face.”

His stupid fucking curse is making his body shake with the need to be penetrated by a puppet right the fuck now. He opens his mouth involuntarily, desperately wanting it to be stuffed with a long bulbous, fabric appendage.

He grimaces, not wanting to show weakness in front of Sollux, but he can’t hold on much longer. He feels like he’s about to shake apart, his ears buzzing, his body trembling uncontrollably. Sollux’s bulge is still thrashing inside him, rubbing against his prostate and making his dick leak. He forces his mouth shut, whining through his nose.

Finally he can’t take it anymore. “I need-- fuck-- Sol, I need--” he can’t bring himself to say it.

-

Sollux wastes no time. As soon as Dirk even starts begging, he's picking up a pace, snapping his hips roughly forward into Dirk with lewd, wet noises. He lifts one knee onto the bed and presses over Dirk further, bending him further in half as he ploughs into him.

The bulge around his cock squeezes, throbbing with each of Sollux's rough movements, and the troll grins, bringing one hand up to Dirk's mouth, leaving his psionics to keep his legs bent and spread.

"You're tho filthy," he breathes, shoving his thumb into Dirk's open mouth, pressing down onto his tongue, forcing his mouth wider. He grazes against Dirk's teeth and chuckles lowly, growling as he ploughs into the prince like an eager teen. "Tho pathetic. You humanth with your flat teeth and fragile bodieth. I could rip you open with just my bulge. Would you like that, you whore? To be torn apart on my cock?"

Sollux pulls his thumb away, and replaces it with two of his fingers, hooking them into Dirk's jaw as he fucks into him, all the way until he's bordering on orgasm.

Then he stops to catch his breath. He draws his hand away from Dirks mouth and groans, coaxing his bulge away from ringing Dirk's cock.

He pulls out of Dirk with a wet, sloppy sound, yellow material dripping from his bulges and Dirk's now gaping, empty hole.

The pair thrash and then wind around each other, forming a twisted drill of bulge.

Sollux presses against Dirk's hole with the monster of his cock, and, using his psionics, flips Dirk over with ease. He grabs one of the boy’s stupid puppets and pushes it in front of his face so he has something to look at, and grabs Dirk's arms, folding them behind his back and holding onto them like he might hold onto a pair of reins, Dirk's chest to the bed, face pressed into a pupped, thighs spread, ass just begging for Sollux to fuck.

"Are you ready, thlut? Heh, nevermind. I don't care."

And with that, he roughly shoves forward into Dirk, the prince’s back bending in an arch as he drives himself forward, the tight hug of Dirk's hole around him drawing a low moan from his chest.

"Oh, fuck....."

-

Dirk’s eyes widen at the puppet Sollux places in front of him. He needs it--needs it inside him, right fucking now. He leans forward as far as he can, gaping his mouth open like a baby bird, eagerly sucking the tip of its felted dick into his mouth and groaning with the relief of the feeling. He lets it fuck into the back of his throat every time Sollux thrusts forward. The sensation is like getting fucked from both ends, and it’s amazing.

He feels Sollux’s twin bulges, twisted together, penetrating him like a drill. It’s so fucking big. It always feels like too much, he knows he can stretch wide enough to fit him, but it feels like he’s about to split in half. The burning stretch of his hole mingles with the hot, slick pressure thrusting inside him, and he bites into the smuppet, crying out in pain and pleasure. He’s not sure which is stronger at this point. No, that’s a lie, it’s definitely the pleasure.

He’s a fucking prince. He shouldn’t be letting this-- this _guard dog_ of a troll debauche him this way. Letting Sollux fuck him, bind him up, call him a slut. It’s wrong and depraved and improper, and Dirk fucking _loves it_.

Moaning and slobbering all over himself, his eyes tearing up, he lays there and takes it, lets Sollux use him, fuck into his hole, do whatever he wants with him. He knows the troll’s powerful psionics could kill him in half a second if he wanted to, and part of him is disgusted that he doesn’t just do it. He doesn’t want this asshole’s pity. Then again, he really likes being alive, and he also really likes having Sollux’s dicks inside him.

Sol’s explained blackrom to him a few times and apparently that’s what they’re doing, but Dirk doesn’t really give a shit. He likes what they have going on, and he doesn’t care what it’s called, or what quadrant it fits into.

The tangled bulges inside him thrust in and out, thrashing and wet and hot, yellow juices spilling down his thighs. He’s definitely gonna have to wash his dress after this. He feels his orgasm building up and tries to hold it back, not wanting to come before Sollux. He knows the troll will just keep fucking him through it, overstimulating him until he can finish too, the douchebag.

His toes curl in his bedsheets, and his dick leaks, red and angry with the need to come. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, shit.

-

Sollux laughs when Dirk starts to cry, and it’s a mean, nasty sound, a degrading, mean one, as he pistons into the princes hole, ruining his dress, which has basically just been pulled aside to allow for Sollux to fuck him raw.

“Pathetic,” he breathes, watching Dirk suck the soft puppet cock into his mouth, rolling his eyes. He looks like a mess. A gorgeous, albeit pathetic, mess.

He’s close. Sollux can feel it in the way his hole flutters and cinches around him, the way Dirk moans and whimpers and cries. God, his tears are so pretty. Sollux wants to make Dirk cry like this all the time. Wants to pound his hole until he can’t speak.

He reaches around with one hand and grabs Dirk’s weeping cock.

“Don’t you hold out on me,” Sollux snarls, leaning over to nip at the others ear, bent over him as his hips continue to pound into Dirk, his bulges squirming and grinding and finding that bundle of nerves, hot and eager, to nuzzle and fuck up against. Sollux humps against him a few times for good measure, making sure to bump and grind against that specific spot as he starts to slip his thumb roughly over Dirk’s sensitive head, calloused skin rubbing meanly over the spongy, delicate flesh.

“I’m not even clothe,” Sollux huffs, his breathing ragged. “Tho you may ath well give up and cum, and then thcream ath I raw you until I dump into your little hole.”

The troll groans lowly, the pleasure steadily starting to get to his head as his bulges thrash and he grinds against Dirk momentarily, a second of relief before he’s thrusting into him again with huffs and growls and groans, jerking his calloused palm along Dirk’s cock to urge him towards orgasm. He leans down, bites at Dirk’s shoulder and draws blood, and then sucks dark bruises up and down his neck, across his back nipping at the skin with his pointed teeth, determined to make Dirk cum, scream, and beg for mercy all before he pails.

“Cum, little printhe, or I’ll make you, and then make you cum again, and again and again until you’re dry and begging.”

-

Dirk was already so fucking close, and as soon as Sollux touches his dick, he knows he’s done for. Sollux’s rough palm jerking him is fucking perfect, it hurts, it feels incredible. The smuppet in his mouth rubs against his tongue, the fabric texture an intense turn-on.

Shivering and moaning from how overwhelmed he is, he yelps when Sollux bites him on the fucking shoulder. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

He can’t-- he’s about to--

He sobs and shouts, his voice muffled by smuppet dong, as his lower body bucks uncontrollably and his dick shoots out hot cum all over his bed.

He pants, his body tingling with aftershocks, as he comes down from his high.

The rough palm rubbing against his dick is starting to feel more painful than good, and the huge in his ass is just so fucking _much_. He needs to make Sollux come. He needs this to fucking end.

-

Sollux grins, adoring the way Dirk falls apart and cums all over his hand and the bed. He pulls his hand away and then shoves it in front of the prince's face, swatting the puppet away.

"Thee thith meth? Lick it off." He growls in demand, shoving his fingers to Dirk's lips before he worms them between his lips, pressing cum-slicked, thick fingers between his lips, feeling over his tongue.

He shoves into Dirk eagerly, chasing his high, and moans softly into Dirk's ear, biting at his neck again.

"Tho hot, you're tho fucking hot, you pathetic, utheleth cockwhore…" He groans, huffing, using Dirk's mouth as an anchor, his cum-coated fingers hooked in his cheek.

Then, a malicious idea.

"Can you cum for me again?" Sollux asks, pulling his hand from Dirk's mouth to flip him onto his back, leaning over him with a wide grin, his hands moving to either side of Dirk's head to hold him up, his psionics bringing Dirk's legs up and apart and keeping his arms pinned behind his back underneath him.

His hand drops to Dirk's cock and fondles his balls, rubbing the pad of his finger over the soft skin before he strokes up his length and teases his slick, sensitive tip with his calloused fingerpads.

"Actually, you don't have a choithe. You're gonna cum again for me, whether I cum firtht or not."

He leans down and sucks his lips around one of Dirk's nipples, suckling and slobbering all over his chest as he starts to jerk his hand up and down his cock as he plunges his twisted bulges into Dirk, groaning, his high ever so slowly working up in his belly.

-

Dirk knows it’s shameful but he can’t help it, he moans eagerly as Sollux shoves his disgusting fingers into his mouth. He tastes the salty bitterness of his own cum, and the tang of Sollux’s juices mixed together, and licks at it with enthusiasm.

It’s perfect, it’s too much, he needs it to stop, he wants to keep going forever.

Sollux tells him he’s gonna make him come again.

“No, fuck you,” he pants. “I can’t fuckin’, again, ‘s too much--”

His body twitches like a puppet’s as Sollux flips him over and grabs his overstimulated cock, it’s too much, it hurts. Tears leak from the sides of his eyes and he drools onto his chin, he must look like a fucking mess.

He whines as Sollux licks and sucks his nipples, jerking him at the same time. He’s not fully hard again, yet, but he’s getting there. It feels so fucking good, and so awful at the same time. Crying out every time Sollux’s bulge rubs against his prostate, slowly, painfully, his erection strengthens until he’s dripping with pre and sweat. It still feels like too fucking much, but he thinks he might actually be able to come again.

-

Sollux moans lowly, arching his back, but he keeps his eyes open behind his glasses, because he wants to see everything. He wants to see Dirk gasp and moan and sob and beg and cum, and his tears taste so sweet even though they never once touch his tongue.

He chuckles again. Dirk's curses are so fickle, so meaningless. He nibbles at the bud of the prince’s chest until it’s raw, sucking and teasing with his tongue until he pulls away and viciously mouths at Dirk's neck, growling hotly into his ear.

"You're thuch a thlut," he grunts as he pistons his hips harder, faster, eager, his hand curling in the fabric of the mattress where he holds himself up. "Letting a troll fuck you like thith. You're a dithgrathe, a pitiful excuthe for a printhe. You might one day rule a kingdom, but you'll always be ruled by my cockth, won't you, pretty-boy?"

Sollux bites Dirk's earlobe, chuckling, and thumbs meanly at the underside of Dirk's frenulum. He collects more cum on his calloused, scarred hands, but it's not bothering him for now. He'll make Dirk lick his fingers clean, and his bulges, if he has to. Maybe he'll make Dirk eat him out.

The thought has his eyes rolling, and he buries his nose in the crook of Dirk's neck, huffing.  
"Gonna cum," he grounds out between grit teeth and his slapping hips and twisting bulges, the drill of biology twisting tighter, tighter, his thighs quivering and nook cinching around air as he desperately chases his high.

"You gonna cum again with me, or am I gonna fuck through two of my own orgathmth and however many more of yourth, little printhe?"

-

“Cu-- cum in me, you fuc-- fucking, bastard,” Dirk moans. “‘M close--, fuck--!”

The sting of Sollux biting at his ear, his rough skin on Dirk’s cock, the chafe and stretch of his bulges in Dirk’s hole, it’s all so _much_... He feels Sollux’s hot juices filling him up, leaking out of him messily. The insults, acting like he _owns_ him, it makes Dirk burn shamefully, because fuck this guy, he’s a _prince_ , he’s not gonna be talked down to by some troll. Except that’s exactly what’s fucking happening right now, and fuck him if he isn’t getting off on it.

His body shakes and trembles, he wants to clench his fists in the sheets to ground himself, but Sollux is still holding them in place above his head. He holds in a sob of overstimulation. It hurts, it’s too much, fuck!! He just lies there as his body shakes itself apart under the ministrations of Sollux’s mouth and bulge, his orgasm building up slowly and inevitably, feeling himself wind up tighter and tighter.

It hits him all at once, and he lets out a hoarse scream, feeling his cock spurt out a weak amount of cum, his asshole clenching and fluttering around Sollux’s bulges in a brief moment of ecstasy.

Then it’s over, and he’s actually sobbing now, begging for Sollux to please, please just come.

-

Fuck, oh, fuck. Dirk so hot and tight around him is driving Sollux slowly mad, and he moans out against the other’s neck in a totally self-indulgent way, his hips quickening their pace, if that’s even possible, railing Dirk roughly into the bed. He barely notices when the boy comes, but he notices the way his gasps and moans and wails pitch louder and higher, and he chuckles, purring.

“Thuch a good boy.... yeah, just like that... Fuck, yeah, just like that--“

It takes a moment more of growling and grunting and ramming, but when Sollux does come, he roars. He digs his nails into Dirk’s hip where he’s holding him with one hand, and squeezes his abused cock so tightly with the other that his whole head goes bright red again. He bows his head as an animalistic sound rips through him, and he fucks his hips forward spastically in aborted jerks as gold genetic material spurts from his bulges in copious amounts and leaks down his thighs from his nook in messy rivers.

“Oh, yeah, oh, fuck, yeah, that’th tho good, your hole ith tho fucking good...”

Sollux slides in one more time to his hilt, and sits inside of Dirk with a wicked grin as his cum seeps out around him with wet noises every time he shifts. He pulls away from Dirk, but doesn’t release the other’s hands or legs as he crouches between his legs to survey the damage.

Dirk is gaping. His hole is fluttering and cinching, gasping around the now empty space where Sollux once was, and golden genmat leaks from him in a steady trickle. He reaches up and lays his palm flat on Dirk’s abdomen, and pushes down slightly, chuckling at the way it forces more of the stuff out of him.

Trolls come a lot on any good day, but the amount of fluid they secrete in the leadup is maddening in itself.

Sollux scoops some of the golden cum up on two fingers and stands up, shoving his cum-coated fingers against Dirk’s lips.

“Suck, or I’ll fuck you again.”

-

Humiliated, Dirk parts his lips to let Sollux’s slimy wet fingers in. He tastes his own cum and Sollux’s yellow fluids, mingled together like mayonnaise and mustard. He obediently sucks the filth off, licking sloppily at Sollux’s fingers until they’re clean. Blugh. Normally he might find it kind of hot, but he’s come twice and he’s just fucking wrecked, right now. It’s just fucking degrading.

Okay, it’s still a little bit hot.

“Are you fucking done yet?” he asks, his voice still shaky from having his ass plowed mere moments ago. He feels stretched, empty and sore, his arms are tingling uncomfortably from being pinned above his head this long, and he just wants to take a fucking nap.

He wriggles, trying in vain to free himself from the troll’s psionic hold. Damn, he should have tried when Sollux was mid-orgasm, when his concentration was weakened. Oh well, he’ll make a note of that for next time. Because there _will_ be a next time, Dirk knows it, and he looks forward to it as much as he dreads it.

His tired dick twitches at the thought of Sollux continuing to degrade and humiliate him all night long, against his will. What the fuck is wrong with him? Why is he like this? No wonder his parents sent him to live alone in this fucking tower, so they wouldn’t have to be subjected to the awfulness that is Dirk Strider.

-

Sollux grins. He croons degradingly as Dirk cleans his fingers, and as he pulls his hand back, once they're clean, he wipes them dry on Dirk's bedsheets. He takes a moment to survey the beautiful mess that is Dirk, his eyes practically spades as he looks him up and down.

His dress is wet in patches where Sollux was tonguing and sucking on his nipples through the fabric. His dress is wet and stained with cum at the hem and in places where it is bunched around Dirk's hips, the slit twisted around to expose as much of the prince's naked body as possible.

"I'll be fucking done when I thay I'm fucking done," he breathes, grasping Dirk's abused cock in his palm and stroking him languidly. He has no plans to fuck him again, or to get him off, but if Dirk gets hard again and starts reaching for a smuppet, you can bet your left limb that Sollux will be stuffing _something_ back inside that little hole.

He teases his cock slowly, stroking, letting his calloused thumb grind across his head, strokes him back down, squeezes. He watches Dirk's face, a lazy smirk on his face, and then leans down and nips at his bottom lip with his sharp teeth.

"You _act_ like you don't like thith, like you don't like _me_ ," Sollux purrs against his mouth, chirring as he works his hand along Dirk lazily, just to watch him squirm and buck away from the ministrations on his oversensitive length.

"But you _do_ , don't you? You love me coming up here and fucking you raw, reducing you to _thith_."

He licks along the other’s jaw, nips his earlobe.

_"Don't you, Dirk?"_

-

“Fuck you,” Dirk spits, braver than he feels. He’s not just going to roll over and let this obscene, unwashed troll taunt him like this. At least not without a fight. “You think you’re such hot shit, but you’re not. You’re just a glorified guard dog who’s depraved enough to fuck the guy you’re supposed to be protecting. You’re such a fucking asshole, no wonder nobody can stand you. I know I sure fuckin’ can’t.”

Dirk knows enough about quadrants to know that he’s seriously pushing some pitch buttons right now, and he’s probably going to suffer for it, but he can’t help himself. Sollux just… affects him that way. He makes Dirk want to _hurt_ him. Not that he could actually do any damage physically, anyway, he’s just a weak human and Sol’s a fuckin’ kaiju. So he tries to go for his emotional weak points instead.

“You fucking _wish_ I was enjoying this, you sick fuck. I’m literally under a curse, remember? This dick ain’t hard for you, it’s being held up by magic.” He nods, indicating his dick, which is definitely getting hard again. Ugh, Jesus, fuck this curse right in the asshole.

“If it weren’t for the spell on me, I’d go softer than a damn marshmallow at the sight of your ugly face,” he snarls meanly. Fuck, just imagining what Sollux might do to him after, this, it’s making his asshole clench around air, and his dick start leaking again.

-

So, that's how he's gonna be?

Sollux was considering just letting Dirk be for the rest of the evening, but if this is how he wants to play it, fine.

"You little th'it," he snarls against the others mouth as he draws back, giving Dirk's cock a squeeze before he pulls away finally and rolls his shoulders, drawing himself to his proper height.

He knows what he's going to do now, and he doesn't give Dirk even another glance before he leaves him psionically stuck and leaves the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> art for this chapter by alldavekat


	3. I Ain't The Sharpest Tool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2 of the dirksol smut

Down at least three flights of spiral staircases, Sollux retreats into the sopor caves beneath the castle. His chains only just allow him to go down this far. There are a few pools and beds of the slime, which give off a slight, eerie glow.

It takes him roughly three seconds to find what he needs. He kneels at the edge of one of the pools of green, and then thrusts his hand into the slime. Trolls have a sense for finding these things, these worms, so it comes as no surprise when Sollux's hand wraps around a writhing creature that instantly coils around his wrist and palm.

He grins when it instantly latches onto his hand. He can feel his skin puckering as the creature tries to suck something, but comes up empty.

Sollux pulls the worm from the slime and holds it up. It's deformed, as he discovered a lonely few years ago, and as such, Sollux has no clue how it's still alive. It has no teeth, only harmless little gums that latch onto whatever it can. Its tongue slicks and sucks and tries to coax something from Sollux's palm, so desperate that it doesn't care where or what said fluid is, and the way it writhes and thrashes in Sollux's grip makes him grin wider. It's not very thick--maybe the size of one and a half of his bulges, a good size, though not at full potential due to being, well, starved.

He turns and lumbers from the cavern, the nookworm still trying to crawl out of his palm and up his arm, latching onto his hand and skin and fingers, harmlessly sucking little hickeys into his skin. It tickles a little, and the troll's menacing grin widens.

When he gets back up to the room, he doesn't say a word to Dirk, nor does he explicitly show Dirk the worm. He simply makes sure his hands are still secure, places his paws on the insides of Dirk's legs to force them apart, and nudges the worm towards the heat of his hole, which is still seeping with genmat.

The worm is more than eager. It gobbles whatever is in the entrance of Dirk's pucker, and then it shoves it's bulbous head into his slick hole and starts to burrow.

-

Dirk lays on the bed, cum leaking out of his asshole. His whole body is aching and exhausted, and he’s trying not to freak out about what’s going to happen next.

Sollux has been gone a while, is he even coming back? He must be, right? He’s still psionically binding Dirk to the bed, holding his arms over his head. Dirk’s eyes are drawn across the room to the pile of smuppets. His asshole clenches around nothing, wanting to be filled by the bulbous felted noses.

God, fucking damnit. He hates that he’s so helpless, both to this curse, and to the whims of his stupid troll bodyguard. And yet, he can’t fuckin’ get enough of it. He squirms, trying to relieve the feeling of emptiness, the ache of need. It doesn’t fucking work at all.

After what feels like forever, he hears heavy footsteps on the stairs, and the door creaks open. Sollux walks in, holding… something… in his claws. Something that’s squirming. Dirk strains his neck to try and see what it is, but before he can get a good look, Sollux places it near his asshole, and it starts suckling at him, licking up the cum leaking out everywhere.

“Um, Sol?” Dirk hates how his voice is high pitched and nervous. “What the fuck is tha-- aahh--!!”

He cries out as the _thing_ , whatever it is, shoves itself up inside him and starts wiggling around. Oh, fuck, fuck, it’s really moving around in there. It feels so weird, so hot and wrong and perverted. Dirk groans.

Then he feels the squirmy creature/toy/whatever the fuck it is, lapping at the insides of him.

And it. It-- latches onto him??

And starts suckling and nibbling. On his prostate.

Holy fuck.

Dirk screams and whines at the feeling of his sensitive interior fuckbutton basically getting eaten out by a tiny little mouth. It’s incredible. It’s horrifying. It’s so fucking intense.

Tears are leaking out of his eyes and he can’t stop the noises falling out of his mouth, helpless but to squirm, getting fucked from the inside while the troll he hates watches on.

-

"I a'th'ed a th'imple que'th'tion. For you to admit that you like thi'th, which you obviou'th'ly do. But you couldn't give me the right an'th'er, th'o now, you can th'uffer for it,” Sollux growls lowly, standing back and folding his arms, grinning with satisfaction as Dirk screams and writhes and cries.

Maybe he'll leave the worm there for the night. Maybe even for the next day.

Fuck.

Sollux sits on the bed beside Dirk and pulls his clothes back on, but sheds his shirt. It's warm in here now, what with all the moving and sweating and heat.

He reaches across to Dirk's cock and jerks him slowly with one hand, teasing his calloused fingers over his head and slit, knowing it's probably too much, knowing that the worm has probably latched on and is thrashing as it tries to suckle something from Dirk, coming up empty.

He peers between the prince's legs and his grin widens. The worm has slipped all the way inside now, bar the very end of itself, and Sollux coaxes the tail end to wrap around Dirks balls, right at the base, stopping his orgasm, letting him suffer.

"You're gonna th'tay like thi'th until you can apologi'th'e," Sollux drawls, pressing a deceptively sweet kiss to Dirk's jaw as the thick nookworm bites with hard gums but missing teeth, sucking and writhing inside him.

"Apologi'th'e, and admit that you love thi'th. Being treated like a whore."

-

Whatever’s crawled up Dirk’s asshole is squeezing a tight ring around the base of his balls and he just. Can’t. Come. He desperately wants this to be over. He’s exhausted and shivering from overstimulation, his dick is red and overworked, and he has-- _something_ \--squirming around his sore hole and chowing down on his fucking prostate gland like it’s a rack of ribs at a southern barbecue.

Sollux jerks him off slowly with his rough hands, and it _hurts_ , it’s so _much_. Dirk can’t stand it, more tears fall, and his cheeks burn in humiliation. He writhes and his mouth is open in a constant high-pitched whine, from how much he _needs_. Needs to come, needs this to stop. He’s a whimpering pile of fucked out flesh, and it just won’t end.

Sollux gives him a sickeningly sweet kiss on the jaw, and tells him, in no uncertain terms, that he has to apologize or this shit won’t end.

Oh, fuck _that_. Dirk Strider doesn’t apologize to anyone, much less to some pathetic unwashed sad sack of a troll.

“Fuck you,” he manages in between pornographic moans and whines. He spits but can’t manage to say anything else.

The sensations wracking his body keep getting more and more intense, and he shakes almost violently. He snarls and whimpers, trying to fight the reactions of his body, not wanting to give Sollux the satisfaction of knowing just _how_ close he is to giving in, apologizing and begging for him to stop. Not that Sollux can’t probably already tell, but it’s somehow worse for Dirk’s pride if he just fucking gives up.

He knows he’s going down, but he’s going down fighting.

-

Sollux shrugs. He doesn't care how long it takes, he'll get what he wants. He lays down beside Dirk and sticks his hands in his pants, fondling his appearing bulge again absent-mindedly.

"You know, people th'ay that you can go about a week without th'leep," he recites factually, staring at the cement ceiling as Dirk writhes and moans and cries beside him.

"I've gone longer, but I'm not human. I wonder how long it take'th for th'omeone to go mad from lack of th'leep and pro'th'tate abu'th'e," he adds, turning his head to grin menacingly at Dirk as he slowly coaxes his bulges into view and strokes them slowly, groaning low.

"Feel'th good, Dirk... you wouldn't know though, you're probably th'o th'ore," Sollux teases, moaning again deliberately softly, enjoying himself as he thumbs the slit of one of his bulges and bucks into his hand, huffing.

Fuck, his head is hurting. He's been using his psionics a while.

He wonders what Dirk would do if Sollux let him go.

It's not like he can get the nookworm out, the little bug won't be letting go unless it sniffs something better, and its wound tight around the base of Dirk's cock, not letting him cum and certainly not letting go.

In all honesty, Sollux has no plan for how to get the worm out of Dirk. His current theory is that if he comes, he can coax it out with his genmat, but... yeeeeah. The only other plan he has is to rip it out of Dirk, and even with its gummy hold on Dirk's wall, he doesn't think that'd be safe.

Not that he cares, psh. You kidding?

He groans again, a sudden throb of pain ringing through his head as if acknowledging the overuse of his power has somehow made it more intense.

Maybe he should let just one of Dirk's hands free. Lessen the toll.

He wonders what Dirk would do if he could catch Sollux unaware. Inhibited because he's too exhausted and sore from using his psionics.

That's an arousing thought.

He moans headily and fucks into his fist now eagerly, huffing and growling as he eyes Dirk beside him. "Don't you wanna feel good?, I'll make all the pain th'top, all you gotta do i'th-- well, you know what you gotta do."

-

Oh, Jesus Christ. A _week_?? There’s no way in fucking hell Sollux would leave him like this for a goddamn week. ...Right?

Dirk’s not actually sure, and the thought scares him shitless as much as it arouses him.

He tries to hold on. He really fucking does, clenching his teeth, sweating, and shaking. He tries to breathe through it but his breath keeps catching on the sobs that bubble up from his chest. His body protests in agony at the overwhelming, neverending stimulation, and his dick is hard again, somehow, flushed and leaking from the tip.

The thing inside him sucks and bites endlessly at his poor overworked prostate, sending a constant barrage of sensation through his entire body. It feels like all his nerve endings are on fire at the same time. It fucking _hurts_.

It’s just too much.

“ _Fuck--_ ” he finally chokes out between sobs. “I-- give up-- you, ahh!!-- shit! You win--! Please, Sol-- ahh, uhhh-- fuck!! Get this thing-- hfff-- out of me--!”

His mind is so utterly melted and scattered, he can’t remember exactly what Sollux wanted him to say, but he hopes that’s close enough.

-

Alright. Enough is enough.

Just hearing Dirk release his hold on pride is enough to send Sollux over the edge, and he moans long and low as he spurts hot slurry over his hand and stomach, twin bulges thrashing violently as he fucks his fist through his orgasm.

As soon as he's over, though, he sits up. He releases his psionic hold on Dirk's body, and carefully parts his legs, his touches gentle.

"Shh," he coos, gently pressing a slurry-coated finger into Dirk's abused hole along with the worm. It's a stretch, probably a painful one, but it works, and the worm is letting go of Dirk's flushed cock, and damn, Sollux is starting to wonder if it might just burst and split open like a gross banana.

The worm releases its suction hold on Dirk's prostate and curls in on itself, writhing and twisting around to get towards the smell of genetic material.

Sollux croons and chirrs softly to Dirk through it, mumbling reassuringly as the undoubtedly painful sensation gets worse, and then better as the worm latches onto Sollux's finger, and he can draw it out of him in one fluid motion. The chains around his wrist clinks and clatters, and Sollux grunts in annoyance as he moves the thick line of metal out of the way.

He sighs. Oh, to be a captive.

The worm squelches and makes wet sounds that make Sollux's nook cinch, but once its out, Sollux sets it on the bed where it skitters and squirms in the mess of yellow-and-white and mostly-yellow, eating everything it gets close to.

"There," Sollux breathes, reaching to wipe Dirk's forehead with his hand, grinning, but not meanly this time.

It's soft.

"Wa'th'n't th'o hard, wa'th it?" the troll teases, taking to another side of the room.

With a cloth and a shallow bowl of water, he wets the fabric and takes to carefully cleaning Dirk's thighs and chest, surprisingly careful.

He notices that Dirk is still hard, and purses his lips. He's so fucking hard, jesus. Sollux can practically see blood throbbing through the veins, and Dirk's cock is so flushed red and angry, Sollux only feels a little bit bad.

He's probably going to start blurring quadrants a little bit here, but-- whatever.

"Do you want me to get you off? I'll be ni'th'e thi'th time, I promi'th'e,” Sollux offers, doing his best to clean the cum and material from Dirk's dress. It'll need a wash later, but this is the best he can do for now. He doesn't touch Dirk any more, though. Not until he gets a clear yes or no.

-

Dirk whines needily at Sollux’s offer to get him off nicely.

“Yes, please, fuck Sollux, I’ll do anything, please make me cum,” he sobs.

The moment he set down his pride and begged Sol to stop, it apparently opened the floodgates because now he can’t _stop_ begging. It feels so perversely good to beg, to ask for something and not know if he might be denied. To know that he isn’t strong enough to fight for it himself, he’s desperately reliant on the whims of someone else. Of _Sollux_.

His sore, abused hole is aching again with the familiar need for a smuppet. He knows he’s too tired to go grab one himself, and he looks at Sollux pleadingly.

“Can you please stuff me full of puppet dong?” he breathes softly, hoping Sollux will take mercy on him tonight.

There have been nights before when he has, and ones when he hasn’t, instead leaving Dirk psionically bound without being able to reach a smuppet, writhing and sobbing with need. It’s… fucking intense, and he’s not sure if he can handle it after what’s already gone down tonight, to be honest. He hopes Sollux can take pity on him this one time.

-

Sollux isn't typically one to take pity, especially not on Dirk, But tonight, he's feeling-- nicer. He did just fuck him up with a nookworm, didn't he?

The troll looks over at the starving thing and bites his lip. Maybe he'll use it for his own enjoyment, later.

He croons to Dirk and obliges with a soft sigh. He hates these fucking stupid felt-- things, but fine, fine.

He reaches for the nearest one and sits on the bed with it between his legs. Then, he picks Dirk up with his hands under his arms and sets him straddling his hips, ass over the dumb smuppet dick.

"Just th'it down, baby," he chitters, leaning to press soft kisses to Dirk's jaw, one hand reaching to guide Dirk's hips, another wrapping snugly around his cock. He jerks him slow, gentle, in comparison to the mean grinding of his calloused palm against him earlier, and coaxes Dirk to sit down, knees folded, onto the felted cock.

"I hate you, but you're really pretty when you're all helple'th like thi'th," he croons, nipping at Dirk's jaw as his chains click and shuffle with every twist of his wrist on the prince’s abused cock.

-

Dirk’s hole opens easily around the smuppet dick, and his breath hitches as it brushes lightly against his overworked, sensitive prostate. Sollux’s hand around his cock is gentle and almost lazy, and Dirk is so exhausted, he almost drifts off to sleep right there. But the tiny jolts of arousal, from being stroked and from the puppet cock in his ass, keep him conscious. Just barely, though.

He just lies there with his eyes closed, letting Sollux fuck him with the toy and jerk him off. The troll’s whispers and soft words in his ears are so nice and sweet, and he feels more calm and relaxed than he has in a long time. This happens sometimes after Sol’s been really rough with him--Dirk goes into a headspace where he just feels floaty and pliant, like he’d pretty much let the troll do anything to him, and he wouldn’t even fight it. It feels good to let go of control. To stop fighting. To just give in, and let it all happen.

Finally his legs shake, his back arches-- his orgasm feels like it’s happening in slow motion this time, it’s not as intense and sharp, but it still feels fucking incredible and turns his brain into mush.

“Ahh-- hah-- hhhhh,” he pants, his body tightening in pleasure.

A pathetic dribble of come spurts out of him. Sollux strokes him through the last of his orgasm and lets him go.

He manages to open his eyes long enough to look at Sollux for a moment. Then his eyes shut again, and he’s aware of nothing more.


	4. In The Shed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back to the actual plot now!

Good god.

By the time Karkat and Dave make it to even the outskirts of the castle, Karkat is so sick of this fucking donkey's babbling that he's ready to cut his ears off with his sickle. He's tired, they haven't stopped walking for hours, and it's taken a good two days to get here. 

Grass turns to dirt and then to rock, rubble climbing upwards to spires of stone that create almost a small island, a huge, falling-apart castle looming tall, reaching into the dark clouds that circle overhead.

Karkat says nothing as he starts for the rocks and begins to climb, grabbing for the rocks with calloused hands as he drags himself up. Dave is struggling, slipping around and teetering, so Karkat grabs him by the scruff and sets him on his back with a grunt as he carries them both higher.

When they get to a flat plateau of stone, he pushes Dave off. Not gonna give the little shit the satisfaction of knowing that maybe Karkat cares about him a little as he folds his arms and looks out of the moat of lava that surrounds the castle. 

At their feet, a little to the left, is a charred skeleton laying inside some silver armour. The metal has been burnt in places like it was shot with electricity, and Karkat crouches to reef the dead man from the carcass of protective wear and tosses him into the moat, acquiring the helmet, which he slides on over his head.

"Righ'. You stay out here." Karkat instructs, looking towards the rope-bridge over the pit. He glances at the boy and then back to the castle, and actually changes his mind.

"Nevermind. C'mere. Go first."

He nudges Dave ahead of him onto the bridge. As much as the kid pisses him off, he kinda doesn't want him to turn into barbeque like the one who once before inhibited this helmet. 

He grabs the rope sides and starts to walk as the lava spits and bubbles below them.

"Get going. Don't look down."

-

Dave’s little donkey legs wobble as he slowly makes his way across the rope bridge. Right now, he thinks, would be a great time to have opposable thumbs so he could actually grip onto the rope handrail, rather than dangerously swaying side to side over a boiling pit of hot lava with nothing to grab onto.

He’s suddenly full of regrets for stealing carrots from a farmer’s field that morning; they’d been delicious, but they’d also triggered his stupid curse.

Karkat’s movements on the bridge behind him cause it to sway back and forth violently, and his knees buckle in fear. 

“H-hey Karkat, could you maybe, like, not swing the bridge back and forth so much, it’s just harshin’ my mellow a little bit,” he says, pretending his voice isn’t wavering. “Actually you know, why don’t you just let me go back to the other side, I’m probably gonna be pretty useless in the castle anyway, just, uh--” 

He turns around, trying to slip past Karkat. Realizing there’s no space, he just stops in place and stands there shaking. “Come on man, let me go back?”

-

As soon as Dave seems even remotely nervous about the wobbling of the bridge, a mean grin spreads across Karkats face. He's holding onto either side of the bridge with no qualms about falling, and while seeing Dave so worried makes him a little sympathetic, he's mostly amused.

"Aw, what? You're already this far, just don't look down." He grins with a mouthful of sharp teeth, and takes a step forward, deliberately forcing Dave and the bridge to swing.

"Don't tell me you're scared, Dave." He teases, gauging the distance between here and the front courtyard of the castle. Maybe five steps? He swings the bridge again, the other way, and it creaks dangerously, but Karkat doesn't falter as he backs Dave up another two steps.

"Don't you trust me, Dave? I won't let you fall. Maybe. Depends."  
The breeze buffers his hair, and his shirt whips around his torso as he looms over Dave and swings the bridge again, this time laughing when Dave shakes and scrambles.

He forces him backwards again, one step, two-  
And then their feet hit solid ground, and Karkat's face melts back to one of indifference. He pats Dave's head twice with his palm, and grunts; "Good donkey." 

And then continues his stride towards the castle.

-

Dave whinnies in fear, as Karkat steps forward, swinging the bridge back and forth. His back legs collapse and he scrambles backwards, scooting away from Karkat’s heavy, stomping feet. 

_Don’t you trust me?_

He does, oddly, trust Karkat, if only because he’s the only person Dave’s known who hasn’t kicked him out or chased him out of his life within a day or two of knowing him. 

Aside from his brother, Dirk, anyway. And his parents, at least before Dirk left. Without Dirk at home, Dave’s parents quickly tired of his constant blabbering and ushered him out of the castle, telling him to find his own way in the world and come back when he’d made his fortune. 

Dirk was still the heir to the kingdom of Far Far Away, and once his curse was broken--the mysterious curse that Dave wasn’t allowed to know about--he could come home and inherit the throne. Dave was just the second son, unimportant and annoying, and he’d never shown much skill or interest in leadership anyway. 

These thoughts swirling in his mind, he closes his eyes and lets Karkat bully him across the bridge, shaking and trembling. 

Then suddenly he feels solid ground under his feet, and a big palm pats him on the cheek. He opens his eyes to see he’s made it across the bridge.

“Oh! Oh… that wasn’t so bad. Hah. Stupid lava pit can suck it,” he mumbles. 

Relieved to be alive, he trots after Karkat on shaky legs up to the castle.

They reach the entrance where there are several more charred corpses lying around. Dave wonders what--or who--was able to burn these people so badly that they’re nearly unrecognizable as human. 

“So, what now?” he asks Karkat. “Do you know where to find this so-called ‘muse?’”

-

Karkat grunts his reply when Dave asks if he has any idea where to find said muse, stepping on and over charred corpses that crackle and snap under his boots. He picks his way as carefully as he can, mumbling apologies to the dead under his breath whenever he crushes a skull or steps into a chest cavity.

The castle stands huge, casting a shadow over the both of the “heroes,” and Karkat picks out the tallest tower. 

“Probably in the tallest tower. You know. Standard fairytale shit,” Karkat grumbles, stepping up the stone steps into the first main hall. It's entirely made of cobblestone, and more corpses litter the floor.

Picking his way forward, Karkat more or less spends an hour or so trying to find the stairs that go _up_ but when he does, before he can even foot the first step, a lightning flash of red and blue turns the cobblestone stair to ash. Karkat jumps backwards with a hiss, and steps in front of his little grey friend, brandishing his sickle from where it was sheathed on his hip. 

Not that he’s trying to protect Dave at all. He just thinks it’d be a little inconvenient to have to carry his body back and bury him. Not that he’d do that either, because he doesn’t care, and the little shit has _not_ grown on him.

On the opposite side of the room stands a troll only bigger than Karkat in height, otherwise swimming in his clothes, his hands charred black and his hair a black mess atop his head.

Jewelry adorns his horns, which crackle with red and blue electricity, and Karkat ushers Dave further behind him. Again, not because he cares.

“What do you want,” the opposing troll snarls, narrowing his sparking eyes.

“I think you know what we want,” Karkat spits in response.

The chains around the troll’s wrist and ankle clatter as he steps closer to the pair, but he only gets a foot or two before he’s yanked back by his collar, and he can’t go any further, his chain caught on a large segment of rubble.

Using the other's distracted state, Karkat turns and scoops Dave into his arms. He takes the stairs two at a time to the tune of the troll behind him roaring and blowing shit up behind them with his eye sparks.

Karkat practically collapses at the top of the stairs, heaving as he sets Dave down and sinks down to sit against the nearest wall.

“Well,” he starts, huffing. “We got in.”

-

Dave’s eyes are wide, and his legs are shaking as he hides behind Karkat, awestruck at the sudden confrontation between two massive trolls. He wonders which one of them would win in a fight-- Karkat’s certainly huge and buff and all, but the other troll appears to have some magic sparky powers that could spell bad news.

Before he can wonder any more, Karkat picks him up and flees up the stairs with him. Damn, he didn’t know the big guy could be this fast or agile. Dave’s donkey ears bounce as Karkat takes the stairs two by two. 

When they get to the top, Karkat puts Dave down and his useless little legs immediately collapse under him. They don’t seem to be in immediate danger anymore, so he stays sitting down for now, waiting for Karkat to catch his breath.

“Yeah,” he answers. “We got in, but how are we gonna get back out again? That big scary dude’s still gonna be down there. Not to mention we still haven’t found the muse we’re lookin’ for. Unless that was him, back there? If that’s the guy we’re lookin’ for, I think we’re gonna have some trouble gettin’ him all the way back to Duloc. Not to mention he’ll probably fry Lord Caliborn the second he sees him! Would that be good for us, or bad? I don’t actually know. Mmph--” 

He stops talking only when Karkat claps a big meaty paw over his muzzle. Yeah, he gets that reaction a lot.

-

“Shut up,” Karkat hisses as he claps his and over Dave’s mouth to shut him up a little faster than just waiting for him to decide to keep quiet. Over the sound of the troll at the bottom of the stairs, he can hear footsteps from around the corner, hurried ones. 

Pulling his hand from Dave in case the dumbass decides to do something stupid, like bite or lick him, Karkat gets to his feet and brushes off his trousers. 

“Somehow I don’t think we’re going to have trouble getting out,” Karkat mutters, half to himself as he leaves Dave in favour of following the cobblestone walkway. 

Around the corner, and up another step, a large wooden door blocks the way. Just in case, Karkat draws his sickle again, stepping carefully over the stones to the door, heart hammering in his chest. All this just for some peace and quiet, what a fucking joke.

He slowly pushes the mahogany door open, and is immediately greeted by shredded curtains and- puppets? Green, felt puppets, literally everywhere. There are some needles on the floor along with green thread, but Karkat lets his eyes glaze over all of that in favor of the lump in the four-poster bed.

“Uh,” Karkat blathers, blinking.

“Hello?”

-

Dirk hears footsteps on the cobblestone outside his hallway. He assumes it’s Sollux coming up to get some daytime nookie, so he doesn’t bother getting up out of bed. He’s been sitting there mending a dress that Sollux had completely trashed the other day, ripping into it with his claws as he fucked Dirk senseless. 

Not that it matters if Dirk’s dresses are in a presentable state, since he’s been here for fucking years and nobody’s managed to make it past Sol’s lasers to quote unquote “rescue” him yet. This place is a fucking deathtrap, and Dirk would find it depressing if he was the sort of person who had emotions. 

Lucky for him he’s not. 

But he _is_ still susceptible to boredom, and sewing is marginally more engaging than just sitting and doing nothing. So.

He glances up as the door opens, and freezes in surprise when the troll who opens it is definitely not Sollux.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks warily. The troll isn’t acting aggressive or anything, but the fact that he got past Sollux must mean he’s tough as shit, right? Oh, fuck, _Sollux_. 

“How’d you get past my guard troll?” Not that he gives a shit what happens to Sollux. He just. Wants to know, because fuck you, he doesn’t have to justify himself.

-

“Uh.” Karkat is totally stunned into silence for a minute, and he blinks, staring at the boy and the dress and- Wow.

A princess, sure. A muse, yeah, Karkat was expecting. But not some skinny twig of a boy fixing a dress. 

“It doesn’t matter who I am. We’re getting you out of here,” he grunts, stepping into the room. 

He offers a hand to the kid, but it's evident that he’s not getting the picture. There’s a dangerous rumble from downstairs, and a roaring, and Karkat decides that there is absolutely no time for this little shit to be babbling nonsense about being rescued by a “Knight,” so he scoops him up and throws him over his shoulder. 

He starts towards the stairs, eyes narrowed, and the whole tower suddenly sways.

There’s a flash of blue and red, and Karkat’s eyes snap to the window, where Sollux hovers with his eyes flaring and his hair whipping around his face. He’s clearly unhappy, but he’s not attacking. Even as Karkat brandishes his sickle, the other simply drops into the room and scowls.

“I’m not going to stop you if you’ve already got the little wea’th’le,” he growls, glaring at Dirk’s ass where it rests thrown over the other troll's shoulder.

Karkat looks from Dave, to Sollux, and it suddenly hits him that he’s not chained anymore. There’s a shackle hanging from his wrist, and one from his throat, but they’re not attached to anything anymore.

“Yeah. I blew everything to th’it. We th’ould leave. Unle’th you want to stay for tea? It might be a little rubble-y, though.”

“Are you fucking joking?”

“Wi’th’h I wa’th, friend.”

“Not your friend.”

“I can already tell that our journey together i’th going to be ju’th’t wonderful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure when we will update this next. currently on hiatus while we work on other fics.

**Author's Note:**

> Karkat & Sollux: [@Apiaristic](https://twitter.com/Apiaristic)  
> Dave & Dirk: [@alldavekat](https://twitter.com/alldavekat)
> 
> Written as a roleplay on the [Strilonde RP Discord Server](https://discord.gg/y2b9E72) (18+).


End file.
